The Earl’s Wicked Seduction (Historical Regency Romance) Page 4

  "Oh, but look again," Grace pointed out. "They have chapbooks, too!"

  "They have – what?" asked Noah, still looking through the window.

  "Chapbooks. Just little books made of folded paper. They don't usually cost more than a penny, or even a half-penny."

  John looked back again. "But are they any good, if they cost so little?"

  "I’ve heard that they do! Stories, poems, histories – I promise you, when we can, we will go in there and look. We'll save up and get a chapbook to share among the three of us!"

  The boys nodded and then continued on down the street with Grace. She could hardly wait to explore the book shop, but for now, it would have to wait.

  Taking a deep breath as she walked beside her brothers, she looked up at the soft and cloudy grey-white sky and breathed a small prayer of thanks at finding herself and her family in this new place . . . a place where, it seemed, the whole world had suddenly opened up to all of them.

  Eventually, they reached the end of the street. Out beyond the small white church, which sat a little apart from the eastern side of the shop row and marked the end of the town, Grace saw several more scattered, distant cottages much like the one where she now lived.

  These cottages, however, were occupied by the families who owned them and who also grew vegetables and raised animals for the table . . . not by charity cases who were living on the kindness of a relative and keeping a sad secret at the same time.

  Then she saw it. Almost at the end of the west side of the street, Grace realized they were standing in front of a door that had Fabrics, Feathers, and Fineries painted in faded gold letters above it.

  "Here we are!" Grace announced to her two young brothers. "Now, you must be on your best behavior in Uncle Leonard's and Aunt Betsey's shop. I have some things that I must discuss with them, so you must touch nothing and only speak very quietly. If you speak at all."

  "Can't we stay out here and look around some more?" asked John, frowning as he peered through the door windows. "That's just things for ladies."

  "Of course it is," said Grace. "That's the kind of shop they own. Maybe later, you can – "

  The door opened with a little jingle of harness bells. "Come in, come in," Aunt Betsey said briskly. "Don't stand out there all day like gypsy peddlers! Come inside and see our shop. Then, Grace, you will sit down with your uncle and me, and we will have our talk."

  Aunt Betsey stepped back and held the door open for the three visitors. Grace walked inside and tried to take it all in at once.

  Working at Northcliff, she had, of course, seen plenty of fine gowns and bonnets in her life. But this was different. Here in the softly lit shop, with its dark and heavy wooden shelves and cupboards polished and gleaming, the bolts of bright, beautiful fabrics were shown off to their best advantage.

  Walking across the thick, wooden floorboards in her heavy work boots, she could hardly resist reaching out to touch the breezy lightweight cotton muslin in so many pretty pastels: the bleached linen, almost white as cloud; the warm wools dyed in deep shades of blue and green and red; and, especially, the lustrous silks in bright rich colors, that shimmered in the glow of the lanterns.

  On other shelves, were displays of fine ribbons in silk and velvet and grosgrain, from deep black to jewel colors to soft cream and bright white. Near the ribbons, were strings of beads in every shape and hue, to be used for trimming the dresses. Grace seemed to remember that the older women were especially fond of heavy gowns with strings of beads stitched along the necklines, leaving long loops that fell freely to the waist.

  She couldn’t help but smile at the many wooden boxes of feathers – large and small feathers in every color, both natural and dyed. These would add a touch of softness and brightness to any gown or cloak or bonnet.

  Indeed, one corner was entirely devoted to hats. Some were plain and awaited the exact decoration that a lady might order, while others were done up and ready with velvet ribbons, silk flowers, and the most beautiful of the feathers and plumes.

  Grace could have stayed here all day, just taking in the sight of these rich and beautiful fabrics and trims, looking at them for as long as she liked and even touching them very gingerly if she wished. She almost felt a little giddy at being surrounded by such loveliness. It seemed that life really was changing for the better!

  "The feathers are sold to other dressmakers and milliners all around the country," said Uncle Leonard, walking down the narrow staircase from the upper floor. "We buy them for pennies from the local farmers, and then clean and dye them in all sizes and colors. It's a specialty of ours."

  "I saw all the many birds as we walked through town this morning," said Grace, turning to face him with a smile. "Ducks, geese, and chickens in every yard, and no end to the wild ones. No mystery as to why this place is called Birdwell!"

  "No mystery at all." Uncle Leonard looked up and Grace saw him smile. She looked in the same direction and saw that John and Noah still stood patiently just inside the door, apparently having no interest whatsoever in wandering around a ladies' dress and feather shop.

  "Grace! Come upstairs," commanded Aunt Betsey. "We have much to discuss and little time for it. The customers will be coming in soon. Boys! Come here!"

  Glancing at each other with wary expressions, John and Noah each took a cautious step forward as Aunt Betsey reached into her apron pocket. "There, now. There is a half-penny for each of you. Go and see what is here in the rest of the town. Buy yourselves some candy. Your sister will find you when it is time to return home."

  "Thank you, Aunt Betsey!"

  "Thank you!"

  Each of them made an awkward bow as they had been taught to do, and then threw the door open and dashed outside. The door fell shut behind them as the harness bells jingled wildly.

  "Oh, Aunt Betsey, there was no need for that," said Grace. "It was so generous of you to give them each a coin! I will pay you back, I promise – "

  "I won't hear of such things," Aunt Betsey said firmly. "They’re my nephews, after all."

  "Then I'll at least thank you for your kindness." She glanced out of the shop windows, and spotted her two brothers racing down the street. "I just – I just hope they don't become too accustomed to such a life. There will still be much hard work expected of them out here, and very little in the way of sweets and leisure."

  "If you are successful, Grace, there may be plenty of both for all of us," said Uncle Leonard. "Come upstairs, now, before our customers arrive, and we will plan our plans and scheme our schemes."

  Grace followed her aunt and uncle up the narrow wooden steps, very much hoping that he was right.

  * * *

  Once the girl in green and the two boys disappeared into the shop, Thomas began a slow walk along the boardwalk on the east side of the street. He had dropped a few pebbles into his left boot, so that he wouldn’t forget to limp on it, and reminded himself to stay a little bent as he walked. His voice, too, would be a little rough when he spoke, as though he was somewhat older.

  It was not as difficult as he'd thought to become someone else for a little while. Thomas simply thought of the many tradesmen and servants who had worked at the estate over the years and tried to give his best impression of the way they spoke, behaved, and even walked.

  It was actually rather exciting to see how long he could keep this up without being found out.

  He looked across the street again and remembered why he was doing this in the first place. He did know that the shop where the girl had gone inside belonged to Leonard Vane and his wife, and that they had been there for many years. Like most of the other merchants in Birdwell, they might recognize him – at least in passing – and so he had no intention of going in.

  Instead, he kept an eye on the door as he moved slowly along the boardwalk. It wasn't long before the two boys came bursting out of the shop again and ran down the street, exclaiming about the shops they wanted to see and the things they wanted to buy.

  Smiling, T
homas began to walk in the same direction as the boys. If he was lucky, he might hear them mention a word or two about the pretty young lady who had brought them into town this morning.

  He thought again of what a chance he was taking – and then something else occurred to him. Yes, he was doing this in an effort to uncover any possible deception on the part of any woman who might seem to feel affection for him. But wasn't he doing the same thing? Deliberately deceiving the women by pretending to be someone he was not?

  It was an interesting moral quandary, and he almost laughed as he moved down the walkway. He told himself that a little deception was worth the price of avoiding many years of living with a woman who cared nothing about him . . . and that if the woman he chose did not understand that, then he had better choose again.

  Thomas could only hope that he was right, for he knew he was about to be tested . . . both by shopkeepers he'd known for many years and by a pretty girl he had never met at all.

  Chapter Five

  Outfitted For Finding A Husband

  Grace stepped inside the small, close room where Uncle Leonard and Aunt Betsey lived, over the shop. For light, there were two small windows facing the street. For warmth, there was a little grate, sitting under a chimney, and nearby, a small supply of coal.

  Two very old and threadbare chairs sat before the grate. A little table with a lamp on it had been placed between the chairs. Quickly, Grace moved to the little footstool in front of one chair and sat down on it, leaving the chairs for her aunt and uncle. In the back of the room, there were a couple of narrow beds with an old and battered trunk at the foot of one of them.

  Compared to the richness of the shop downstairs, this was barren and old. It was the kind of room where a couple might live if they were near penniless, and not the sort of home for the owners of a successful fabric and dressmaker's shop.

  Uncle Leonard saw her looking around the room. "It costs a great deal to buy bolts of silk and velvet to sell," he explained, sitting down in his chair.

  "That is where most of our money is bound up: in the inventory for the shop," said Aunt Betsey, from her own chair.

  Grace nodded. "I see that now," she said. "And not only do you have this shop and your own lives to manage, you suddenly have an entire family hanging from your neck like a millstone and being a further burden on you."

  Her aunt and uncle sat in silence.

  "We are all very grateful to you," Grace whispered. "Please . . . tell me exactly what you want me to do."

  "Yes. It starts with the assembly ball in a fortnight," Uncle Leonard began, clearing his throat. "Now, your aunt has already presented you with two muslin gowns and a bonnet. A decent pair of half-boots, a pair of slippers, and some kid gloves will follow when we are able."

  Grace looked down, embarrassed by such generosity on her behalf.

  "But these are not simply gifts," Aunt Betsey warned. "We do this in an effort to help not only you and your family, but ourselves, too."

  "I understand," she said quietly. "But again, I’m entirely willing to find a position, work hard, and earn money. None of my family expects only charity."

  Uncle Leonard glanced at Aunt Betsey. "As we said to you yesterday, Miss Miller," he said, "you have a new assignment. Your 'work' is solely to make yourself into the most elegant young lady that you can. You are to be a respectable and very marriageable daughter of a tradesman, who helps her widowed mother care for her two younger brothers."

  "Yes," agreed Aunt Betsey. "Your responsibility now is to find the best man you can and make an excellent match. We will help you all we can, but much depends on you. And you will start with the assembly ball in less than two weeks."

  "The assembly ball," sighed Grace. "There were balls at Northcliff, but of course, I never expected to go. And anyway, that family was so clannish that they only invited a very few guests to their own parties. They loved the isolation of the mountains. Their whole estate was twenty miles from nowhere, as the saying goes. There was no town at all anywhere near it."

  "But that does not sound like an assembly ball," said Aunt Betsey, frowning. "Was it open to anyone who bought a ticket?"

  "Oh, no, no. They were not. There was hardly anyone living near enough to Northcliff to buy a ticket, even if they had had the money or the inclination to go to a ball."

  "Exactly. Those were simply private parties with guests attending by invitation only. But it is far different here in Birdwell," said Uncle Leonard. "We have a sizeable town that is growing all the time. And the estate of Worthington, up on the northern hill, is far larger than Northcliff ever thought of being."

  "Indeed it is," said Aunt Betsey. "And between Worthington and Birdwell, there are so many tradesman and farmers with marriageable daughters – and wives in want of amusement – that Mrs. Robbins worked with Lady Worthington to start up the subscription balls again."

  "So, if this is a subscription ball," said Grace, "then this is only the first of – how many?"

  "Three, I believe. Once each month, as near as possible to the full moon. Those who can afford the tickets will subscribe to all three, so as not to be shut out if the list should fill up."

  "Three," said Grace with a sigh. "If they are once a month, that will take into July!"

  "Let's hope you have found someone by then, Miss Miller," said Aunt Betsey.

  "Yes. Yes. All I can think of is how wonderful it is of both of you to try to find me a husband." Then Grace was struck by a new thought and looked up at the two of them. "Yet – suppose I do not?"

  Aunt Betsey's face suddenly wore a severe frown. "What are you talking about? What do you mean, 'suppose I do not?'"

  "Well – I mean – I just thought – " Flustered, Grace tried to gather her thoughts. "Perhaps no man will offer to marry me."

  "What?" said Aunt Betsey, apparently shocked. "What do you mean by that?"

  Grace spoke quickly. "I mean – if that should happen – couldn't I simply return to work? Perhaps even go to Worthington itself and seek a position there! Such places are always in need. And my mother is not yet past work. She and I could both – "

  "Grace!" Uncle Leonard said, very sternly. "I will hear no more about it. You cannot work any more than your mother can. That would ruin our plan of introducing you as the daughter of a tradesman. I will hear no more!"

  "Tell me," said Aunt Betsey, her narrowing. "Did you get a letter of reference when you left Northcliff?"

  "I – no. No, Aunt Betsey. I have no letter of reference."

  "Does your mother have one? Or your brothers?"

  Grace clenched her jaw, feeling like she’d been backed into a corner. "None of us has a letter of reference. The master at Northcliff refused to recommend any of us for employment, even though we all had good records of work there."

  "What you mean," said Uncle Leonard, "is that your father's drinking ruined both his own chances of gaining another position, and your family's chances, too."

  "It did. The drinking, and – " She stopped quickly.

  "And? And what? You may as well spill your secrets, girl. It's too late to hide anything now."

  "And because he stole some whiskey from the house." Her Uncle Leonard was right, Grace knew. They would find out anyway. And if they were footing the bill for all of her new clothes and for the cottage where her family lived, she at least owed them the truth.

  "I’m not a betting man. But if I were, I should say it happened more than once."

  "It did."

  "And," continued Aunt Betsey, "not only do none of you have letters of reference, your mother claims to be a widow, doesn't she?"

  "She does," whispered Grace, looking away.

  "She does," repeated Aunt Betsey, "because that’s less of an embarrassment than being the wife of a drunkard."

  Uncle Leonard sighed. "We don't mean to humiliate you, niece. We merely hope to make you understand how very serious your situation is. All four of you, right now, have no chance of finding other employment."

&n
bsp; "Or of making any sort of advantageous marriage," said Aunt Betsey severely. "A widow might remarry and find security, but your mother could not – for she is not really what she claims. And neither you, nor your brothers in the future, would be welcomed by marriage into a respectable family if it was known that your father was a drunkard and a thief, who was sacked and turned out of a very good position."

  Grace just nodded. It was all true and there was nothing she could say to refute it. She knew that her aunt and uncle were using every resource they had to help her and her mother and her brothers get out of the predicament they were in.

  Uncle Leonard smiled at her. "Thank you for your honesty, Grace. It’s painful sometimes, I know, but the reward is having the trust of others."